Scribblings

31/03/2016

This is my attempt of a journal. I don't even know if I'll write anything past this point because- hey, even I think my own life too boring to write about. This is just any old notebook, but you know those little day to day diaries and planners you could get with a space for each day? My mother used to buy those for me all the time and I remember always feelings so guilty seeing those blank spaces, I would scribble 'busy' in every one. For me this is a less committed way of getting the job done. If I'm honest I would hesitate at the word 'diary' anyway. I grew up with an elder brother (who was kind of my role model at the time) and a diary was considered as 'too girly' which automatically meant that it was to be abhorred (despite me being a girl) so I still kind of cringe at the world. I know I gave into peer pressure. Sue me, I was six.
Despite this boycott on diaries, journals (in my household) were accepted and respected. I was intrigued of the idea of recording each passing day in a way that wouldn't be forgotten. I was also, equally amazed that people were stupid enough to pour their hearts and secrets out on a piece of paper that anyone could read. But as I grew older, I realised what good of an outlet writing could be, and I understood those I had previously mocked. This is partly why I got this dia-ah, screw it, diary (take that, brother) so I could give my feelings an outlet, so I could have those little epiphanies that help you really grow as a person, and so I would feel like my life was something worth writing about, no matter how uneventful or average it was. It was still mine- and that made it important.

Xx

K.S

P.s. buy milk